Adorable
by Socrates7727
Summary: Harry finally dares to tell Draco that he's more than beautiful, more than gorgeous... he's adorable. Eighth year, short oneshot fluffy-ish, Drarry if you squint HPDM


AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Drarry if you squint, one-shot unless you guys really like it :)

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"You're adorable." That was it—the one sentence that immediately changed their dynamic. Draco stared at him. Harry wasn't wrong, though, and he knew that because Draco was adorable. He hadn't seen it right away. Normally, the blond was full of sharp edges and perfect details from his hair to his robes—his body language was always sharp and guarded. Until, suddenly, it wasn't. They were just sitting—the only eighth years who had stayed behind for the Christmas holiday—but then there was music and Harry was dancing, even though Draco sneered at him.

"At least I still have _some_ of my dignity." Harry just laughed. He didn't care because the music was settling on his shoulders and lifting that weight until he felt like he could breathe again.

"What's the matter. Scared, _Malfoy_?" Honestly, Harry expected a hex or at least a few choice words. But then Draco was laughing. His shoulders were shaking and his cheeks were flushed but he was laughing to the point of tears, hunched over and clutching his blanket like a teddy bear. In that moment, he was adorable. Even as he said the word, he knew that the Slytherin wouldn't like it. Draco just laughed harder, though, until he was gasping for breath on the sofa—Harry kept dancing.

"No, Potter, I'm fucking gorgeous and I'm intimidating but I am not adorable." They were both laughing, though, and Harry couldn't help it. He collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the cushions less than three inches from his former nemesis, and he laughed. It felt good to laugh, honestly.

"You are, though! I never noticed it before but you really are, Malfoy. You're so fucking danity and proper and you curl up on the couch like a damn cat, not a snake. And god you laugh like a little kid when you aren't being a twit and you're just… adorable. Merlin, you're adorable." Draco glared at him, but the look lost any venom behind it when he broke out into another fit of giggles. Anyone watching might have thought they were drunk. It felt like they were, even, but Draco was laughing and then it was just so _cute_ that Harry had to laugh too. After seven years of fighting, of hatred, it should have been strange. But it wasn't, honestly. Because they'd been through so much over the last year that nothing could surprise them anymore.

Draco laughed like he was four years old. He threw his head back and it shook his whole frame like his happiness was his own personal earthquake. He grabbed for his stomach, as if it hurt, but kept chuckling. The sound lingered on his lips like sunlight at dusk and Harry tried not to stare but it was just so… pure. It was innocent and carefree, and Draco finally looked somewhat relaxed. Harry gasped for air but, even as they settled down, the little pangs of amusement never left his chest.

"You're an idiot, Harry." Draco laughed as he said it, but Harry was too focused. He'd settled deeper into the couch and their shaking guffaws had shifted them closer together, their sides now touching.

"You called me Harry." Immediately, Draco recoiled and jumped to his feet.

"Well excuse me, Saint Potter, I just—" Harry caught him by the wrist and held, trying to keep him from running away.

"I didn't say that I minded, Draco." Slowly, the blond allowed himself to be pulled back down onto the couch. He was dead serious, now, and that Malfoy mask was firmly cemented back into place. Harry hated it.

"You don't have to do that, you know." Against his side, Harry felt Draco stiffen as he comprehended what was being said. Harry wanted to make it stop, to put that childlike confidence back onto that pale face, but he restrained himself.

"Do what?" Harry snorted, but the laughter was over now. Shame, the sight of Draco laughing like that had been surreal, Harry thought.

"That. The frown that never fades, the tension in your shoulders, the… fuck, all of it. You don't have to do that anymore and I wish you wouldn't—even if you don't trust me." Slowly, Draco turned to stare at him. He looked completely taken aback, in all honesty, and Harry would have laughed if the conversation hadn't taken such a serious turn. Draco curled his fingers into his blanket and pulled it tighter, like a shield.

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful." His stomach plummeted, but he refused to take it back even if his cheeks burned. Those storm-cloud eyes settled on him, intrigued, but Draco surprisingly didn't get mad or sassy. Instead, he merely relaxed his grip on the blanket.

"Beautiful?" Fuck it, Harry was all in. He felt like he might throw up if he opened his mouth and his palms were sweating but he did it.

"Yeah, beautiful, and so adorable that it's not fair." Draco was staring at him now, but Harry refused to cave first so he stared right back. The blond didn't look angry, though. Instead, Draco looked completely unemotional and unaffected—so much so that it hurt to look at because Harry knew how much effort that took. But then, very slowly, Draco's frown broke into a smile.

"I always knew I was gorgeous, but… Both beautiful and adorable from the Golden Savior himself? And in the same day? I'm shocked." And then Harry was smiling too, looking to silver rings that merely inches from him. The last time they'd been this close Harry had had a wand jabbed into the Slytherin's chest. But that had been Malfoy. This person, who was sitting here beside him with mirth in his eyes, was Draco.

"You laugh like a little kid." Draco's smile didn't fade, but he calmed his chuckling and nodded. They were still touching, sides pressed together, but neither seemed very interested in changing that fact.

"I know," Draco mumbled. "Father always hated it, said I must have gotten it from one of the disowned Blacks—probably Sirius. I never really met him, but I imagine he would laugh the same way." Harry had to smile. He'd never seen Sirius laugh while he was alive—at least not sanely—but he could picture it now. Young Sirius Black, his head thrown back the way Draco's had been. His frame shaking, curling in on himself and burying his face in his hands as if he was trying to hide his laughter. It was a nice image, Harry had to admit.

"Yeah, I imagine you're right." For a moment, they just sat in complete silence. Harry could feel the warmth soaking into his robes from where he and Draco were touching. The heat surprised him, honestly. He'd always imagined that Draco would be cold, or at least have cold hands or something, but the blond was like a furnace.

"You're letting me touch you." He hadn't meant to make it sound so intimate, or to make Draco pull away. Thankfully, the blond stayed put.

"Yeah, I am." It was just a statement of agreement, but Harry couldn't help over analyzing him tone. Was he upset? Regretting it? But Draco didn't move away or sneer, so Harry decided to risk trying again.

"I'm honored. You haven't even let Blaise and Pansy touch you since coming back." Draco shrugged.

"They remind me of my father. You don't."

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Thanks so much for reading! Please, please review!


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